|Driftwood on Lossie Beach March 2014|
There is something magnificent about driftwood
wood, washed smooth by the action of waves
rolled and rocked and tumbled
until there is no more bark
no more twigs
and then left
high and dry on the shore
for wind and rain and sunshine to continue the work
until what you have left is the shadow
the remnant of the tree
still wood, but no longer standing
no longer truly alive
but, still filled with life
it beckons and calls to me as I walk
what is your story?
Where did you grow?
How did you fall?
When did you start this last journey, to this beach
and this day...
Good questions to ask ourselves too...
What is my story?
Where did I grow?
How did I fall?
and, where am I now, on this journey?